


How To Marry An Angel 101: A Step-By-Step Guide By Dean Winchester

by CelestialSilhouette, delicious-irony (deliciousirony)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Dean Winchester, Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), DCRB 2021, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021 (Supernatural), Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Minor God | Chuck Shurley/Becky Rosen, Naomi Being an Asshole (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural), just a lil bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSilhouette/pseuds/CelestialSilhouette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/delicious-irony
Summary: The ring in the sock drawer had weighed on Dean’s conscience for over a month.It isn’t as though he hasn’t ever brought it out — he has. Many times.He tried to propose when they were stargazing, but their neighbor’s Chihuahua totally ruined the mood when he pooped on Cas’s wings.He tried when the school year was over, but they got carried away inside of Cas’s classroom, and his department head had walked into the room right when things were getting interesting.He tried yet again, at the Roadhouse, but then Lisa walked in, and even though he and Lisa had a rather amicable breakup all things considered, things were still pretty awkward even without Cas smoldering at her from halfway across the room.Sam would laugh at him if he could see him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Smith (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021





	1. Step One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time doing a bang and ngl it was really fun!!!
> 
> I was so excited to get delicious-irony's freaking b e a u t i f u l[ art](https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/post/646124964766007296/how-to-marry-an-angel-101-a-step-by-step-guide-by%22)! I mean, just look at it!! it's so good ajeogiajweoig 
> 
> Big big big thank you to Aceriee, Superhoney, and Diamond, the mods for DCRB. You guys are amazing <3
> 
> Also, many thanks to my beta, [ MonsterShow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterShow/pseuds/MonsterShow) who caught so many things I never would have found on my own!!

The ring in the sock drawer had weighed on Dean’s conscience for over a month. 

It isn’t as though he hasn’t ever brought it out — he has. Many times. 

He tried to propose when they were stargazing, but their neighbor’s Chihuahua totally ruined the mood when he pooped on Cas’s wings. 

He tried when the school year was over, but they got carried away inside of Cas’s classroom, and his department head had walked into the room right when things were getting interesting. 

He tried yet again, at the Roadhouse, but then Lisa walked in, and even though he and Lisa had a rather amicable breakup all things considered, things were still pretty awkward even without Cas smoldering at her from halfway across the room. 

Sam would laugh at him if he could see him. Sam _had_ laughed at him the first few times, before Dean just gave up telling Sam beforehand. 

It wasn’t as if Sam gave any helpful commentary or emotional encouragement. In fact, he almost did the opposite. 

Sometimes, when Sam sends him snide texts asking for updates about his marital status, he contemplates deleting his number altogether, if he wasn’t one thousand percent sure that Sam would recruit Charlie to find a different way to harass him.

 _Today’s the day,_ Dean thinks to himself. 

Currently, the ring is in his pocket. He had brought Cas to this diner on their first date, and managed to convince the owner to reserve the same seat for them. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asks. 

Dean smiles weakly as he surreptitiously wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. 

“Peachy,” he says. 

Cas stares at him, his brows furrowed, while licking his ketchup covered hands. 

“If you say so,” he says, “Although if you don’t want the rest of your fries, perhaps you could give them to me?”

Dean glances at Cas’s empty tray of fries, and his own, mostly full tray. He sighs and pushes it over. He’s always had trouble saying no to Cas. 

“Have at it, sweetheart.”

Cas dips the fries into the ketchup and takes a big bite, shoving three or four fries into his mouth at once. Dean thinks that he’d be pretty content to just watch Cas for the rest of eternity. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a scruffy man wearing a suit way too formal for a diner like the one they were in, and a woman in a tacky, hot pink cocktail dress. 

“Becky, we’ve known each other for two years now. And in this time, I’d say that we’ve learned a lot about each other,” Dean hears the man say. 

Oh _hell_ no _._

Not _today._

Scruffy-guy is _not_ beating him to the punch. 

“Marry me,” Dean blurts out, his voice loud and echoing through the small diner. The entire place silences, conversations stopping everywhere, people turning their heads around to stare at them. 

Cas blinks at him, a handful of fries halfway to his mouth, and says, “What?”

Dean gulps and drops down onto one knee. “Marry me,” he repeats, and brings out the ring box. 

Cas gapes at him for a few seconds. “Did you just —” 

“Just answer the goddamn question, Cas,” Dean bites out. 

That snaps Cas out of whatever reverie he was in. He launches himself at Dean. 

“Yes, yes, yes yes yes,” he whispers into Dean’s ears. 

Dean opens the box, his hands shaking, and fumbles a few times before taking out the ring. He holds Cas’s hand and gently pushes the ring on. When it’s finally there, Cas lets go of his hands and admires it. 

It had taken him a pretty damn long time to decide which ring to get. There were just _so many choices._ There was the silver one with a sapphire band embedded inside that, when looked at under the sun, was the same shade as Cas’s eyes in the morning light. There was another gold one which had a pair of wings embedded onto it, which the shop owner had claimed was ‘modeled from an angel, for an angel’. He had to stop himself from buying it even after he had chosen the ring he would propose with.

In the end, he settled on a black, iridescent, chrome ring. He tried to aim for something similar to the color of Cas’s wings, and in his humble opinion, he thought that he did pretty well. 

“It’s beautiful,” Cas whispers.

The owner of the restaurant squeals and barks out an order to the waiters and waitresses. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see scruffy-guy glaring at him while pocketing the box that he was holding. The girl — Becky, however, seems perfectly happy to coo at Dean and Cas. 

“Why don’t you ever do anything romantic like that, Chuck?” Becky asks. 

Chuck shrugs miserably, his shoulders slouching. 

Dean feels absolutely triumphant. 

When Dean turns back to look at Cas, his fiancé winks at him the way he always does, too obvious and exaggerated, awkward and adorable, and nods towards Chuck and Becky. 

‘I know what you did,’ he whispers conspiratorially. 

Dean leans in and flutters his eyelashes. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Cas nods at Becky and Chuck, who is now morosely taking their food in a to-go box and trailing behind Becky as they leave. Dean shrugs, his eyes wide and innocent. 

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says out loud. Cas rolls his eyes, but leans in for another kiss. 

A waiter with a large moustache walks over to them, holding a giant piece of cake. 

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice bland with the air of someone who’s spent too long in retail, “It’s on the house. Compliments of the chef.”

“Thanks, man,” Dean says, smiling wide. “So, Cas, what do you think about eating some cake now, and then we can drive home to have some awesome naked engagement sex?”

Cas shakes his head, but Dean can see the exuberant smile still on his face. 

“Sounds perfect,” Cas says.

Dean wakes up to arguing voices. 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I was _thinking_ that I wanted to marry the man that I love.”

“She’s going to kill you — no. She’s going to kill him, and make you watch.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Dean shifts in the bed and blinks his eyes open. He’s half-dressed in his and Cas’s bedroom, and it’s dark outside. There’s a sliver of light coming from the door, though. He groans softly, climbs out of bed, and walks into their living room. 

Balthazar and Cas are standing close together. He can’t see Cas’s face, but he can see Cas’s shoulder tense, fist clenching, and his wings shaking, every feather tucked in tightly. Balthazar’s clutching his shoulders, his wings flared out beside him, and he’s shaking Cas every so often. 

“Don’t be an idiot. You know what happened to Akobel and his wife.”

“Anna was fine.”

“Anna _died_ ten years later. And don’t even get me started on what happened to her lover.”

Cas shakes his head. “Dean will —”

Dean tries to take a step forward to hear them better, but as soon as he moves, Balthazar sees him. He cuts Cas of in the middle of his sentence. 

“Dean! What are you doing up? I thought Cassie here had exhausted you!” he says, his smile too wide, too tense, obviously forced. 

“Cut the bullshit,” Dean snaps, “What’re you doing here?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing, nothing. Just came here to, err, congratulate you on your engagement.”

Cas scoffs, his arms folding in his chest. 

Dean walks up and puts his hand on the dip in Cas’s back. Cas relaxes slightly around him, and shifts so that his wings curl around Dean. 

Balthazar takes one look at Dean before he turns to stare at the ceiling and mutters a curse. 

“Who’s going to kill me?” Dean asks. 

Cas grits his teeth and clutches him tightly, but doesn’t say a word. 

“It’s…” Balthazar slowly blows out a breath. “It’s complicated. It’s probably nothing. Congratulations. Truly.”

Balthazar’s great falcon wings flap, and in the blink of an eye, he’s gone. 

Dean stares at the empty space Balthazar was just occupying. 

“What just happened?”

Cas shrugs, staring at the ground. “Like he said, it’s nothing. He’s overreacting. Don’t listen to him.”

Dean cups Cas’s face, and forces him to look up. “Cas,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Cas hisses, batting Dean’s hands away from his face. He doesn’t push Dean away, however, instead, one arm curls tightly around Dean’s waist. Cas sighs, and brings their foreheads together. 

“We have to tell the rest of my family about our engagement,” Cas says. 

Dean nods. He wants to push Cas more, but he lets the topic change pass. It’s clearly unnerving Cas, and he can always ask about it later. 

“Yeah?” he says instead. “Who’re we gonna tell first?”

Cas’s lips twitch up. “You haven’t met my sister Naomi, have you?”

“Oh no! Not the scary one,” Dean gasps, his eyes widening and his hands flying to his chest. 

Cas nods, mock-solemnly. “Yes, the ‘scary one’,” he says, raising his hands to make finger quotes. Dork. “It’s a tradition.”

“To tell your creepy older sister about who you marry?”

“Yes. Well. It’s more complicated than that. She’s one of four angels who can officiate angelic marriage bonds. That is, if that’s what you want. You do want a bond, right? Because we don’t _have_ to get one. It’s just ---”

“‘Course I do,” Dean says flippantly, “Meeting your sister shouldn’t be too bad, right?”

He hopes that he didn’t just jinx himself. 

Dean totally jinxed himself. 

He _knew_ he had a bad track record with Murphy’s Law. The universe sort-of dislikes him on a good day, and actively tries to ruin his life on a bad one. What could he possibly have been expecting?

Cas had teleported them to Heaven — from a portal in a _sandbox_ at a _children’s playground_ of all places. 

Cas had told him that at a typical angelic engagement-slash-marriage-bonding-blessing-ceremony or whatever Cas had called it, they would be welcomed by Naomi, who would do some fancy angelic mojo on them, and all they had to do after that was wait. It would be quick and easy. 

Cas was wrong. 

Heaven is completely empty when they get there. 

They’re surrounded by pure white. They aren’t even in some poor sap’s Heaven of a garden, or a park, or something like that. 

There’s nothing here. 

“Hello?” Dean calls out. 

No one replies. His voice echoes across the chamber. 

“Sister Naomi?” Cas says, “It’s me, brother Castiel.”

Dean surveys the room carefully. A ripple of movement catches his eyes, and he whirls around.

The portal shimmers behind them and Dean turns around. It shatters, the dark pieces littering the floor, the only color there besides him and Cas. 

“Is that… is that supposed to happen?” Dean asks. 

Cas’s jaws are clenched tight. “No.”

“What’s going on?”

“Stay with me,” Cas says. He grips Dean’s arms tightly as they walk around the room. 

“Dude, what the hell is going on?” Dean whispers again. 

Cas shoots him a despairing look. “I’m so sorry Dean, I should’ve listened to Balthazar, I—”

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s waist and kisses his forehead. 

“Hey, hey hey, it’s okay baby, it’s gonna be fine. Whatever it is, we’ll figure out, _together,_ okay?”

Cas nods and clutches Dean tight. “Balthazar warned me that this would happen,” he says. “Angel marriages are typically fast, especially for our lifespan, but they are celebrated. But Balthazar said that they wouldn’t accept you, that they wouldn’t be able to look over your humanity.”

“Excuse me?”

“Angels are extremely prejudiced against humans. Balthazar told me to just settle for a human marriage, but I told him to go fuck himself.”

“Do we have any other choice?”

Cas hesitates, before replying, “I could rip out my grace, and cut off my wings so that we could still be bonded even when the angels inevitably cast me out.”

Dean stares at Cas. “Okay,” he says, “That is _not_ happening. Not on my watch.”

“Dean, you may not be able to prevent it. I would rather lose my grace than watch you die.”

Dean scoffs. “Does this happen every time an angel gets married?”

“The last time someone came up here to request bonding with a human, they simply requested to connect Anna’s grace with her lover’s soul. I had hoped that we could ask for the same.”

“Did it work? Their request?”

“No. But Anna and Naomi were rivals. They did not understand each other, which often led to disagreements and arguments. But I had thought…” he looks down. “I had thought that Naomi cared for me.”

“It’s okay, man, I mean, I was expecting to do _something_.”

“They made Anna’s lover do some trials,” Cas whispers, burying his face into Dean’s neck, “that were designed to be impossible for humans to pass.”

“What kinds of trials?”

Cas worries his lips. “Only Naomi and the humans who have gone through the trials know.”

“Okay then. Do you know anybody who’s survived them?”

“Dean,” Cas’s voice cracks, “No one’s ever gone through the trials and survived. Anna’s girlfriend went through, and never came back.”

Oh. 

“Oh,” Dean pauses. “I guess I’ll just have to be the first.”

He breathes in, and yells, “Naomi! Naomi, where are you?”

“What are you doing?” Cas hisses. 

The broken shards of glass from the portal suddenly rushes toward them. 

Cas steps in front of Dean, his wings curved around to shield them. But before any can reach them, they all drop to the ground. Three doors are formed from the shattered pieces, a word emblazoned on every one. 

VINCIT OMNIA VERITAS

“Truth conquers all,” Cas whispers.

“Do I just… pick one?” 

“I think so.”

“Okay then,” he mutters. He walks to the door that says OMNIA. 

As expected, the world breaks apart behind him.


	2. Step Two

“Nah, I haven’t gotten the chance to try the new cleanse yet,” Dean says into the headset, “What? You got results in less than a month? That’s wild man! I’ll give it a shot!”

Someone knocks on the door to his office. He groans. 

“In a minute,” he says loudly. 

The knocking ceases. 

He keeps on talking with Wesson about weight loss techniques involving a weirdly specific combination of quinoa, brussel sprouts, and avocados. Dean's invested in losing weight, but he isn’t sure he's _that_ invested. Still, it could be worth a shot. 

The knocking came back, this time more loud, and incessant. 

He frowns, then speaks into his headset, saying, “Hey man, something came up. Your stats should be alright now, just give me a ring if there’s anything else you need.”

He presses ‘end call’. Then, he sighs, shrugging his shoulders and stretching.

“Come in,” he yells. 

His secretary walks in, his back straight, gait even, and face cold. 

“What’s up?”

Castiel Novak says, “Mister Smith, these—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, just like that? No small talk, no ‘hello’, no nothing? ‘Sides, you know my name,” Dean grins. 

Castiel’s teeth clenches. 

“ _Dean_ ,” he bites out, “These papers are for you. Adler wants them done by Monday.”

Dean waves his hand. “Mhm, just leave it on my desk, I’ll take care of it. Oh, by the way, do you have my coffee?”

“I’m your secretary, not your maid.”

Dean tuts and winks. “You do want to get that promotion, don’t you?”

Castiel slams the papers down on the mahogany desk, turns on his heels, and walks away, slamming the door behind him. 

“Don’t forget my coffee!” Dean yells. 

Dean’s not entirely sure, but he thinks that he can almost hear Castiel saying ‘fuck you’. 

Dean smirks as he grabs a pen and starts signing. Castiel’s had a stick up his ass since the first day he came to work at Sandover, and it was way too easy to rile him up. 

A steaming hot cup of coffee prepared just the way he likes it does appear on his desk a while later, after a quick bathroom break.

He never even told Castiel what his favorite coffee was or how he liked it to be prepared. Perhaps Castiel was just a coffee god. 

Dean lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

He can't stop thinking about Cas. 

Not about his stupid blue eyes, or absolutely unprofessional, messy hair, or the way his nose scrunches and his mouth twitches when he’s annoyed at some stupid thing Dean did. 

And, if he’s being entirely honest with himself, it isn’t as though Dean only enjoys Castiel’s company when he was annoying him. Sometimes, when Cas smiles just right, or when he talks about owls, or astronomy, or some other shit like that, Dean could see himself falling in love with him. 

If only Castiel were a girl. 

Which he is. In high school, he did wonder if he could like men, but that was a while ago. He wasn’t gay. Thank god for Uriel and Bartholomew, who had stuck by him for every minute of his crisis. They assured him that he was straight, and that it was natural to appreciate the physique of men, and that there’s a difference between agreeing that someone looks aesthetically pleasing and actually wanting to fuck a guy. 

Their reasoning made a lot more sense when they were admiring Harrison Ford fighting Nazis to prevent them from getting the Ark.

But, come on, Smith. Guys? He’s straight. Purely into women. Boobs, curves, the whole nine yards. 

Not guys with… guy stuff.

Dean groans and buries his face into the pillow. 

These days, the bed feels empty. In the past, when Dean was coasting through life as a bachelor, he was happy, and free of commitments. But around a week ago, he kept on getting this feeling. Almost as if something were missing. 

He keeps on looking over his shoulders, expecting a feather light touch, turning around to say something only to realize that no one was there. 

He probably just needs to get laid. 

_Tomorrow,_ he promises, _tomorrow, I will go to a bar and hook up with a hot chick._

Dean’s still tense and wired when he arrives at Sandover. He checks his reflection in the mirror and straightens his tie. His Prius feels much less comfortable and familiar than it had in previous months, but he suspected it had to do with the weird feeling he’s been having lately. 

“Dean!” Uriel says, walking over to him. He smiles thinly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hell yeah man!” Dean says, slapping his back. “Are we still up for Friday with Bart?”

“... Barth?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Bartholomew? Don’t tell me you two got into another fight already.”

Uriel’s mouth presses together and he looks at the sky. “Yes. We are still, as you say, ‘up’ for Friday.”

“Cool. See you then,” he says, smiling. Uriel doesn’t say anything else, but adjusts his tie and quickly walks back in the opposite direction. 

As soon as he enters the building, he frowns. 

He knew that it had been a while since they’d last met up, but still. Uriel was acting colder than usual, and that was really saying something. 

He walks to his office and pushes the door open. He sets his briefcase down, and looks up. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says, jerking and putting a hand on his chest. 

Cas looks up at him from where he’s sitting on Dean’s desk. 

“Good morning, Dean,” he says, “Are you alright?”

“I’m just peachy, thanks. What the hell are you doing in my office?”

Cas bites his lips nervously, and stares at his feet. 

“Well… I was wondering if you would be amenable to go on a date with me.”

“A what?” Dean asks. 

“A date—”

“—No. No. I heard you clearly the first time. I was just surprised you would actually have the balls to ask me out,” he scoffs. 

Cas actually flinches, and Dean feels a stab of remorse. He runs his hand over his face. 

“Look, man, you’re cool and all. But I’m straight.”

Cas nods, his movements small and careful, and exits the office, closing the door with a slight ‘click’. 

“Shit shit shitshitshit,” Dean whispers. 

Dean grips the coffee tightly. 

He walks over to Cas’s office, which is next to his, though much smaller. Also, the windows are tinier and don’t let in as much sunlight. Most of the light in there is from the lights on the ceiling, which looks cold, clinical. Dean's pretty sure Cas hates the place.

He knocks on the door softly. If Cas is doing his work, or resting, he doesn’t want to bother him. 

The door opens. Cas looks up at him. 

“Dean?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Cas, man, I just wanted to say… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Okay?”

Cas stares at him. 

“Okay?” he says tentatively. 

“So,” Dean waves at the coffee weakly, “Here. Take it. Have a nice day.”

Cas doesn’t move. Dean stands there, uncomfortable, and jerkily steps forward. He reaches for Cas’s hands and presses the coffee onto his palm. 

“Thank you,” Cas says, and smiles gently. 

Dean feels another stab of guilt. 

Cas inhales the coffee before bringing it up to his lips. Dean watches him with baited breath. Cas takes a small sip before smiling at the coffee. He doesn’t look at Dean. 

“Thank you,” Cas says again. “It’s prepared just the way I like it.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks. “Good. That’s — That’s good.”

He steps back, and trips over his feet as he leaves the room. 

He can see Cas’s grin through the window. 

“I saw you with the _secretary_ earlier,” Bartholomew says, wrinkling his nose.

“Lighten up, bitch. It was just a coffee.”

“You know that you should not be fraternizing with our colleagues.”

Dean shakes his head and snorts. 

“Preaching to the choir, man.”

“Regardless, you know that we can have him fired for harassment. All you have to do is say the word,” Uriel says solemnly. 

“What? No! Jesus, no! That is _not_ what I meant at all. Look, if I knew that you two were just gonna talk _at_ me the entire time, I’d’ve cancelled this meet-up a long time ago.”

Uriel stares at him coldly. “Maybe.”

The bar they’re at is a small place, filled with truckers. Large antlers stick up from the side of the place, and tinny country music fills the air. Although this place came highly recommended, Dean knew that he should’ve known better than to take _Cole Freaking Trenton’s_ advice. 

Especially when Bartholomew and Uriel seem even more displeased with the place than he does. Dean could tolerate the loud noises and the music, but Bartholomew shies away from the aisle whenever anybody gets too close and Uriel wrinkles his nose every time someone speaks too loudly. 

“Okay,” Dean says, breathing deeply. “Do you guys want to go somewhere else then?”

Uriel and Bartholomew look at each other, and gravely shake their heads in sync. 

“No,” Uriel says, “We’re fine. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

They stand up and leave together, leaving Dean with nothing more than the dust that rises when they move and the bill. 

He puts his head against the table and groans. 

Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he bothers with those two anymore. It’s not as though there was any lost love between them, with their newfound penchant for criticising every decision that Dean makes. And, especially in the past few months, they had been more distant than ever. It’s almost as if their years together never happened. He’s inclined to just delete their phone numbers and start all over, make new friends. 

He waves down the waiter to pay the bill, slaps down a few dollars on the table, and leaves. 

Screw Uriel and Bartholomew. He’s going to start meeting people who actually seem to be interested in him. 

“So,” Dean says, pushing the door open. 

Cas jumps back, and stares at him, startled. 

“Dean? What are you doing here?”

“What, a guy can’t walk in to say 'hi' to his coworker?”

“I’m your secretary.”

Dean waves him off. “Potato, potahto.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see if you had any free time this weekend,” he says lightly, and looks at the calendar habing from the wall. “Looks like you aren’t doing anything this Saturday at six pm.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Want to see a movie with me?”

“What are you, in middle school?” Cas asks incredulously. 

“Dude,” Dean says, “Middle schoolers aren’t the only ones who can appreciate a good movie date, okay?”

“So is this a date?”

Dean shrugs. Fiddles with the hem of his dress shirt. 

“Do you want it to be?”

“Yes. Do you?”

Dean looks at the lines on his hands. He stares at them for a while. 

“I don’t know. Yeah. I guess,” he ends up whispering. “Yeah, I kinda do.”

“Okay then,” Cas also whispers. “Then it’s a date.”

“Meet you at Edlund’s Theater then?”

“That works for me.”

It occurs to Dean that he really likes Castiel. 

Has for a long time, actually. 

Maybe even since the first time they met. 

They’re sitting at the movie theater, and Cas is totally into the movie. 

Which was not supposed to happen. 

Dean was _sure_ that he had chosen a movie with a terrible rating on Rotten Tomatoes. It had scored a grand 23%, so he had been absolutely convinced that the movie was going to be a shitshow. 

But for some reason, it was engrossing? The actors had great chemistry, the dialogue was funny, and the CGI didn’t even suck too much. 

All in all, he wasn’t sure that it really deserved the flop of a 23% on Rotten Tomatoes. Maybe the critics were too harsh on this one. 

Cas was supposed to be sharing a bucket of popcorn with him, which they would throw at annoying teenage couples or snooty people who talked and played on their phones during the movies. Instead, Cas looks like a zombie as he mechanically eats the popcorn one by one while staring at the screen. 

Dean frowns. 

Nothing’s going to plan so far. 

It isn’t until the end of the movie, that they learn why it had flopped so horribly. 

“Was that seriously the climax?” Dean asks. 

“Did you even see what happened?”

“No. I just saw a tentacle monster for twenty, maybe thirty seconds at a stretch. And then it was over.”

“Wild. How’d Warner Bros even let this pass? How’d the _critics_ let this shitstorm hit the theaters?”

Cas squints at a phone screen which Dean just realized that he had pulled out during their conversation. 

“According to Wikipedia, the critics hated it too.”

“Big surprise there.”

Cas smiles gummily at that. Dean suddenly finds it a bit harder to breathe, and his stomach flutters when Cas beams at him. 

This didn’t feel like any other first date he had been on. 

It wasn’t awkward, or fumbly. There weren't any nerves on both parts. It was just him and Cas. Nothing more, nothing less. They just were. 

It was quite nice, actually. 

“Chris Hemworth was the only redeeming factor about that movie,” Cas declares. 

Dean nods solemnly. 

“At least he and Tessa Thompson had chemistry. Otherwise the movie would’ve completely crashed and burned,” Dean says. 

“Like it isn’t already an absolute mess.”

“Point.”

The more Dean looks at Cas… well. The more he thinks that he could probably fall in love with this guy. 

When Cas turns around, Dean has no idea what possesses him to lean forward. 

He presses his lips onto Cas’s. 

Cas jumps back, surprised. 

“Sorry, I don’t —” Dean tries to say. 

“Don’t be,” Cas says and leans in to kiss him again. 

_His lips are soft,_ Dean thinks. _And chapped._

Dean’s definitely going to invest in some good quality lip balm sometime in the (hopefully) near future. 

So maybe he might be just a little bit gay. What was the word that he had heard Jo use? Bisexual? Maybe that's him.

The fog machines in the corner start going crazy and Dean coughs as it covers him. 

“What the fuck is going on,” he laughs, "Where did these fog machines come from? I mean —

And then he looks at Cas. 

And then he remembers. 

Dean gasps. 

They’re back in that white room, with the three doors. 

Cas is right next to him, and he’s smiling. 

“Was that — Was that a test?” Dean asks incredulously. 

“Yes, Dean.”

“And I passed?”

“Yes.”

Dean whoops and grabs Cas by the waist. He picks Cas up (which isn’t an easy feat, mind you, the dude’s almost one-hundred-seventy pounds. Dean had to practice weightlifting at the gym for _months_ before he felt confident enough to pick up something as heavy and precious as Cas) and spins him around. 

“One down, two to go,” Dean grins and leans in for a kiss. 

Cas kisses him back for a while, soft and slow, gentle and sweet, before pushing him away. 

“You know that it’s most likely going to get harder from here, right?” Cas asks. 

“Yeah, but as long as I can prove that I love you, which,” Dean winks, “shouldn’t be that hard, I think I’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully,” Cas nods against Dean’s chest. 

“Hey hey hey,” Dean says, “I _will_ pass, okay? I love you. I love you and I’m going to show your whole family just how much I love you. Okay?”

Cas smiles. “Okay.”

“So. What next?” Dean asks. 

“It’s your choice, Dean. Only you can make that decision.”

“How about you give me one for luck. M’kay?”

“M’kay,” Cas says. He points to VINCIT. “How about the first one?”

“For luck, right?”

Dean grabs on to Cas’s hand and they push the door open together.


	3. Step Three

Heaven had definitely gone through some renovations since the last time the seraph, Dean (or Michael, as he was called), had been there. 

For one, it looked much more… clinical. Impersonal. Removed. 

Back when he was there, during the golden days when Lucifer was still a revered angel and God watched over them, it was a bright colorful place, filled with fledglings. Now, all the fledglings have grown up. The fountains have been removed and the paintings all taken down. 

An angel stands at the top of the marble dais, right next to the gilded throne where their Father used to sit at. Her white swan wings are outstretched, the tip of each wing reaching one end of the throne. 

“Naomi,” Dean says. 

“Michael.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Actually, I go by Dean now.”

Naomi’s lips thin into what you might call a smile if you had terrible eyesight and squinted a lot. 

“So… what’s with the welcoming crew?” Dean nods at the ten or so angels flanking him, blades in hand. For fuck’s sake, he was already handcuffed. 

"Just a precaution."

Naomi stands up, her back straight and chin raised. Though she must have been a solid four or five inches shorter than him, Dean still took a step back, calculating the likelihood of him making it to the nearest exit before becoming a Dean-kebab. 

But all Naomi does is gracefully step off the dais and signal Dean's guards to follow her. Dean grunts when one of them, most likely Ishim, the shithead, shoves him forward.

"Asshat," Dean spits. Ishim barely reacts, but Dean can clearly see the smug upturn of his lips, the puffing of his tawny feathers. Dean sneers at him. 

A frown from Naomi, however, is enough to wipe everything from Ishim’s place. She snaps her fingers, and a wide door appears. Another snap, and it swings open. 

The room lacks the ostentatious adornments that typically were in all of Heaven’s rooms. Instead, a single, rather nondescript chair sits in the middle of the room. 

Dean’s stomach drops. 

“Sit,” Naomi says. 

Dean sits down on the chair. 

“You may leave,” she waves toward the guards. They step out of the room. 

Dean swallows. “What’re you doing?” 

“I’m… running an experiment, so to speak,” she says, smiling. “Now, you might want to take a deep breath before this starts.”

“Before what?”

A drill appears in Naomi’s hands. 

“No.” Dean thrashes in his seat. The Enochian sigils on his cuffs light up and he grunts as they pull him back to his original position. His breaths come in quicker and quicker. She presses the drill to his forehead. 

“Before this,” she says softly, and turns the drill on. 

Dean’s throat is sore. 

He’s not sure when Naomi left, but he does know that he’s the only angel in the room. 

He’s also reasonably sure that Naomi just performed a soul-otomy on him. The world is fuzzy and he’s feeling woozy and he’s not quite sure what just happened. 

“Dean?” he hears someone say. It’s someone he recognizes, but the voice grates on his nerves. He doesn’t seem to like that person. 

“Dean, it’s me.”

“Who’s me?” he slurs. 

“I’m Balthazar. I know you.”

“Do I?” Dean says. His mind’s feeling kind of fuzzy right now. He’s not entirely sure if he’s met Balthazar before, but he decides to take her word for it. 

“I have the key to your cuffs.”

“Huh?”

Balthazar steps forward, and gently touches his arms. 

Oh. He’s covered in blood. 

“Are you alright?”

“M’fine.”

“Castiel sent me here. He wanted me to check in on you.”

Dean frowns. “Who t’fuck’s Castiel?”

Balthazar looks at him strangely as she jiggles the key into the hatch. “No one of import.”

The key slides in, and the Enochian sigils light up. With a small ‘click’, the cuffs and the chains slide off him. Dean groans. 

Balthazar’s black hair is tied neatly behind her back. Her swan-white wings are open, wide and imposing. She presses a finger on Dean’s temples. A cold, uncomfortable buzz builds within Dean’s body. After a few moments, she takes her finger away. All of Dean’s injuries have healed, but the buzz still remains. 

“Why are you here? And more importantly, why’re you a girl? Isn’t your vessel male?”

“Vessels are exchangeable,” Balthazar replies curtly. 

Dean wants to say something else, but he finds himself unable to follow a single train of thought. There’s something… off about Balthazar today. Of course, it’s entirely possible that Balthazar has just changed in the few millenniums that have passed since Dean last saw her. 

Before he can try to grab onto that thought, Balthazar hauls him up. He grunts. 

“Fuck off,” he growls. 

She narrows her eyes, but let's go. 

“What d’you want anyways?”

“Heaven has allowed you back into our ranks. We have a task for you.”

“Well that _really_ sounds like my idea of a fun night.”

“There is a human, one of Lucifer’s disciples, who snuck into Heaven a few days ago. You are tasked with removing him permanently from here.”

Dean gapes at her. “You want me to _kill_ him?”

“No,” she says, glaring at him, “I want you to prevent him from ever coming back.”

“So… you want me to remove a guy.”

“Yes. This man has broken a number of our laws.”

Dean shrugs. “Where is he?”

The corners of Balthazar’s lips raise. 

The guy’s covered in chains. His wings aren’t pinned, but the way he’s shackled to the walls can’t be comfortable either, with the cuffs surrounding his back. His eyes widen when Dean and Balthazar walk in. 

“Dean?” he asks, “ _Naomi?_ ”

Dean looks at Balthazar. “What? That’s Balthazar,” he says. 

“No,” the guy says slowly, “That’s Naomi. Balthazar’s wings look like falcon wings. Actually, Naomi’s the only angel with swan wings. But you know that.”

Dean snorts. “Buddy, you’ve got a few screws knocked loose. But hey, that ain’t a surprise, is it?” 

Prisoner guy frowns. “Dean,” he says, “Do you know who I am?”

“Nope,” Dean says flippantly, and turns to Baltha — Naomi? Doesn’t matter. “Do you have the keys?”

“Of course.” Balthazar (Naomi?) snaps her fingers, materializes it, and presses it into his hands. 

“Nao — Balthazar. Do you have a list of crimes this prisoner has committed, to be read prior to his execution?”

“Execution?” the prisoner says, flabbergasted. 

Naomi (Balthazar?) shakes her head, and looks at the traitor pointedly. “I think he knows what he has done.”

“Fuck you,” the traitor spits out. 

“Watch your language,” Dean snaps. 

Dean almost expects Naomi to blow up, or at the very least demand respect. But all she says is, “You know your duty, Dean.”

Dean steps forward and presses the key into the center of the sigil. It immediately lights up, and breaks apart. The pieces fall to the ground. 

The traitor looks at Dean, his eyes wide. “Dean?” he asks. 

“That’s me,” Dean replies. He cracks his knuckles and winks. “Any last words?”

He scoots back, to the farthest corner of the prison, as far away from the door as is physically possible. Dean walks towards the traitor and picks him up by his dirty cuffs. 

“Nothing?” Dean asks, lips curled up, “Then let’s get started.”

He punches the man in the face. 

Shoves him, kicks him, throws him into the wall. 

“Dean,” the man says. 

Dean lifts him up, and presses him to the wall. 

“Shut up,” he says. 

“I know you’re in there.”

Dean snorts. 

“You know that something’s wrong, don’t you?”

How should Dean approach this? Strangulation would require too much effort, snapping his neck too gruesome. He needs something quick, easy, effortless. 

“Dean,” the man says, “I know you can hear me.”

An angel blade appears in Dean’s hand. He’s got a job to do and he’s gonna carry it through. Besides, he’s getting sick of the man’s ramblings.

He slaps the man with the blade. 

“This isn’t you,” the man says. 

Stab. 

“I know you.”

Kick. The man grunts, and heaves a few breaths. His black hair is matted with blood but his eyes are so, so blue. 

“You want to know why?”

Slice.

“Dean,” Castiel says.

Punch. 

“I love you.”

Dean’s knife stops right in front of Cas’s heart, right before what would have been a killing blow. He frowns at Cas. 

Cas?

Where the hell did that come from?

“I love you,” he whispers again. 

Dean takes a step back. And another. And another. He keeps on going until he hits the wall, and he starts sinking down. 

“What’s happening to me,” Dean says, and covers his face with his hands. 

“I love you,” Cas says, “And you love me.”

Dean creases his face. “But I don’t know you.”

“Your memory’s been wiped, but I promise you, we were happy.”

“Oh.”

“Do you believe me?”

And dammit, Dean really does. 

“Yeah,” he says, “I do.”

Dean blinks, and realizes that Cas’s been healed. He must have done that accidentally, at some point. 

x 

“Cas,” Dean’s voice cracks. A step back, and then another, and then Dean’s tripping over his feet to get as far away from Cas as possible. He stumbles, and sinks down to the floor, facing away from Cas. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas says, “I’m okay.”

Cas takes a step forward, and Dean flinches away from him. 

“I almost killed you.”

Cas smiles, and Dean has no idea how Cas can be _smiling_ when Dean almost bashed his head in, but Cas smiles and leans in, and pulls Dean in for a hug. 

“But you didn’t. You didn’t, and I am so, so proud of you.”

Dean scoffs. Cas grabs his chin, and forces him to look into Cas’s eyes. 

“I’m serious, Dean. Do you realize how hard it is to fight Naomi’s programming? Stronger people, stronger _angels_ than you have tried, and failed. It’s no small feat.”

“I almost didn’t, Cas, if you hadn't —”

“— It didn’t happen, Dean. It’s alright.”

Dean wraps an arm around Cas, and clutches him tightly. He’s shaking all over, adrenaline leaving his system in a rush, leaving him cold and disoriented. 

Cas keeps on rubbing his back, holds him tight, keeps him warm. 

Eventually, Cas lets go of Dean. 

Dean stands up, and faces the three doors. 

VINCIT and OMNIA are both wide open. When Dean walks through VINCIT, nothing changes. 

“It’s… just an empty doorway,” Dean says, his eyes widening. He sticks an arm through. 

“Yes, I would assume so,” Cas replies, “It’s purpose has been served. Storing alternate realities that are not based on a living person’s memories takes up a lot of space. There is no reason to clog up Heaven’s systems with extra information. So, the realities we were in have dissolved, leaving this empty shell behind.”

“That’s wild,” Dean says. 

Cas stares at VERITAS. While VINCIT and OMNIA both have been crossed out, VERITAS is still written in the imposing, blood-like red. 

“Dean,” Cas says, “It’s alright if you don’t complete the last trial. You’ve already passed the first two.”

Dean frowns. “Didn’t you say that I had to pass all three?” 

Biting his lips, Cas replies, “I don’t mind sacrificing some things to be with you.”

“Sacrifi — what the hell are you talking about? Ripping your wings off? Cause I told you, that ain’t happening. Not on my watch.”

Cas says mildly, “I don’t think you get to make that choice for me.”

Dean blows out a breath. “What’s your point?”

“I think that the last trial is too dangerous. And I don’t want you to go through that door.”

“I got to.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t. I have a bad feeling about it. Dean, please, _trust me._ ”

“Look, Cas,” Dean sighs. “I know you just want me to be careful.”

“I don’t want your soul to be dissolved into the base foundation of Heaven,” Cas says bluntly. 

Dean swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. But Cas, this is for _us._ Besides, the last two weren’t really all that dangerous for me, right? Besides, you said that it wasn’t real. So don’t worry, okay?”

“Dean, that doesn’t mean — No! Stop!”

Dean smiles at Cas, who looks stricken, before wrenching the door open and stepping in. 

  
  



	4. Step Four

Dean opens his eyes. 

Everything is dark, the inky blackness expanding its reaches all around him.

He’s pretty sure he’s floating. 

He can’t feel anything around him, he’s not holding onto anything for support. 

Dean kicks a leg, flails around experimentally, but he still doesn’t feel anything. If he weren’t starting to panic, feeling the grounding _ba-bump_ of his heart, he doesn’t think he’d be able to feel at all. It’s like all of his senses have been stripped from him. 

If Dean’s being perfectly honest, he thinks that this is a terrible way to judge a person’s willingness to marry the love of their lives. Of course, that’s likely because he’s the one that has to go through these trials. 

He’d still do it a hundred times over for an eternity with Cas. 

And so he drifts. 

The world explodes around him. 

Animals appear, elks morphing into tigers, and tigers morphing into wolves, the edges fuzzy and ever-changing. Great antlers shifting into giant manes and then transforming into thick fur. 

There’s a loud noise that’s coming… from somewhere.

He can’t hear anything but the high-pitched whines mixed with the low-pitched grumbles, the voices complex yet evanescent, fading away from his memory as soon as the moment passes. 

Every time he thinks he can decipher a word from the cacophony of sounds, it slips away from him. 

Bright colors filling his sight, reds and yellows, blues and purples, all swirling together, curling and mixing. 

Hundreds, thousands of animals, and every single one of them is staring at him. Small eyes, large eyes, beady eyes, eyes with slits, each one is focused on him with a strange intensity. Each animal shifting but always revolving around him. 

Honestly, Dean was half convinced that this place was pulled out of some kind of 1930s technicolor-style animator’s nightmare. 

Dean’s surrounded, he turns around and around and all he can see are the giants that are all staring at him, and even when he closes his eyes, he still sees them on the back of his eyes, still moving the same way they did when he opens his eyes. He can’t escape them. 

He turns around and around until he falls. 

His stomach lurches into his throat. 

He plummets down, the animals shifting back and forth. His eyes burn. His ears ring. 

Each animal is surrounded by a halo of pure light, small wisps curling around them, making their already majestic visage look almost holy, almost like… 

_An angel’s grace_ , Dean realizes, _That’s an angel’s grace._

And if that was grace, then that would mean… well. That would mean that he’s looking at the true forms of angels right now. 

Which, actually, kind of explains a lot. 

Dean keeps on falling, keeps on spinning, colors keep on filling his vision and then leaving it, each moment feeling like an eternity and a split second all at once, the images of the angels imprinting on his mind, and he doesn’t think that he’ll ever forget this for as long as he lives, and even after. 

He keeps on falling, until…

Oh. 

Time stops. Dean can almost feel himself stop falling, lurching to a halt, and he drifts around, staring at the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen in his life. 

A giant face appears right in front of him. He’s got no clue as to what animal it might be, but it’s gorgeous. Bright reds and oranges ruffle as if touched by a slight breeze, small hints of blue dotting the surface. 

The eyes. 

It shines, brighter than any other grace he’s seen. It burns his eyes but he can’t look away, it stares into his soul, and strips him bare. 

The being is warm, familiar. It’s love, and kindness. It’s drinking beer during movie night, stealing kisses on the sofa. It’s a home, not perfect by any means, but it’s somewhere he belongs. 

And Dean recognizes him. 

“Cas,” he whispers. 

The being, Cas, shifts, he stares at Dean, the wisps on his sides curling towards Dean. 

_Dean_ , he can hear. It’s not spoken in English, certainly not any human language that he knows of. Dean’s not even entirely sure if Cas has even said it out loud. 

But Dean hears the sound, and he sees himself kissing Cas, asking Cas out, cuddling on their bed, sharing a milkshake at some cheesy diner. 

It’s not his name, not quite. But Dean’s sure, more than anything else, that Cas is talking about _him,_ is reaching out to him. 

Slowly, slowly, Dean feels himself being cradled by a being almost beyond his comprehension. 

It tugs him gently, not forcing him to follow by any means but asking him to go regardless. 

And all Dean feels is Cas, so Dean lets himself be pulled away. 

Dean wakes up, and he collapses on the ground. 

Someone is there to catch him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that a wanda/vision reference?
> 
> ........maybe. 
> 
> (yes)


	5. Step Five

Everything hurts. 

Dean can’t see anything. Someone is holding him down, so he thrashes, kicks, tries to escape. 

“Dean.” 

Oh. It’s Cas. 

Something wet is sliding down his face. 

“Cas? Where am I?”

Dean lifts a hand to his face. It’s not tears. Of that, he is reasonably certain — it’s been years since the last time he cried. But all evidence points to the contrary.

“We’re still in Heaven,” Cas whispers. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s hand, and guides it away from Dean’s face. 

“Don’t touch that. It’s blood.”

Blood? That… makes a lot of sense. 

Dean places his forehead gently on what he presumes to be Cas’s chest. 

“Why am I bleeding?”

“You saw our true forms. Humans aren’t meant to see that. The fact that you survived at all is… a miracle.” Cas’s voice quavers. 

“Did it work?” Dean whispers, cupping Cas’s face with one hand. He feels Cas nod. 

“It should have. You guessed correctly.”

Dean hears high heels clacking on the ground. “He’s also the only human who’s ever guessed correctly.”

Cas clenches his jaw. “What do you want, Naomi?”

“To create the bond. Unless if I’m mistaken, that’s what you came here for, right?" She waves her hands, and chants something in Enochian. "There. The bond will form in a few days."

“Just like that?” Dean says. 

“Just like — Just like that?” Cas scoffs, “Dean, you were bleeding heavily. If we weren’t in Heaven, I wouldn’t have had enough grace to close up your wounds.”

Naomi snaps her fingers. “And now his eyes have stopped bleeding as well. Happy?”

“Will he ever regain his sight?”

“In a week or so, yes. Don’t worry about it, Castiel.”

Cas tenses. Dean brushes his lips against Cas’s shirt. “Hey, sunshine, it’s gonna be okay. _We’re_ gonna be okay.”

“Listen to your fiancé, Castiel. You have the Host’s blessing now. All will be well,” Naomi says. Her eyes are soft, none of the harsh lines from before, and there might even be a slight genuine smile on her face. 

For four days, Dean is blind. 

Of course, it’s a small price to pay for being able to love and marry Cas without any repercussions. 

Doesn’t stop it from being annoying as fuck though. 

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Dean yells as he walks into yet another door frame. 

He hears the stomps echoing through their house as he makes his way to the sofa, clutching his head.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks, panting, his voice fraught with worry.

“I’m fine, man.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you?” Cas asks, presumably biting his lips. 

“For the last time, no! I’m fine!”

But, on the fifth day, Dean wakes up. At first, he’s not entirely sure why he’s awake. Cas is still dead to the world, and clutching Dean like an octopus, his wings draped over him, fuzzy and warm like a second blanket. 

The sun’s barely peeking out of the curtains, and it’s relatively quiet today. 

Wait —

The sun?

Dean blinks. Touches his eyes. Looks outside. 

He can see. 

Granted, he can’t see very much. Everything’s mostly just blobs of color. 

It’s better than nothing though. 

Cas makes a small noise next to him, and flaps his wings gently to readjust them, and curls them around Dean. 

“Donnmove.”

Dean leans in and pecks Cas gently on the lips. “Cas,” he whispers, “I can see.”

“Thasnice,” Cas whispers back. Dean’s pretty sure that he fell back asleep. Until — 

“What did you just say?” Cas says, and sits up in their bed. 

“I can see.”

Cas breathes out, and Dean can practically _see_ the wide smile on his face. “That’s — that’s amazing! Dean, I don’t —”

“Hey, hey, hey, buddy, don’t get too excited yet, okay? I still can’t see a lot.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“Sure, yeah. But my vision’s still kinda useless right now.”

Cas looks at him, and even though Dean can’t see the edges, he can see the blue color that he does so love. It strikes him that this is the first time in five days that he’s been able to see Cas’s blue eyes. 

“The point is, it’s getting better.”

“Eh, point taken.”

It happens during their weekly movie night. 

Dean still can’t see much, but can still hear things, so they watch Tombstone, a movie Dean’s practically memorized at this point. 

The movie is playing lightly in the background, but Dean’s curled up against Cas, Cas’s fingers running gently through his hair, and yeah, Dean might love Tombstone, but some things are just more important. 

Despite not being able to see anything other than vague blobs, he’s glad that he can still see Cas, and his gorgeous blue eyes. 

Blue that is…

Currently spreading around his face?

“Cas?” Dean asks. 

“What —” Cas stops. Then, “Oh,” he says softly. 

He twirls a wisp of the eerily familiar blue light — his grace, Dean realizes — and gathers it in his hands.

Green mist emanates from Dean’s chest, and Dean reaches for Cas’s hands. 

The moment the two mists touch, lightning courses through Dean’s veins. 

Everything turns so bright, and even half blind, Dean has to close his eyes and turn away. 

When the lights die down, Dean gets a faceful of Cas’s feathers, which are wrapped tightly around him. All of Dean’s senses have just been dialed to eleven. He can hear water gurgling from the kitchen sink, smell the popcorn they had just finished, the smell still lingering in the air. He can hear the _thump thump thump_ of Castiel’s heart. See Cas clearly, for the first time since they’ve returned from Heaven. 

“So,” Dean smiles. “It worked.”

“Of course it did. I have faith in you,” Cas’s arms tighten around Dean, and he brings his hand down to gently trace the outline of Dean’s face. “Besides, Naomi said that it would, and she never lies. Misdirects, yes, even twists the truth so much that she’s able to make you believe a lie. But a direct statement, such as the one she made? That was a promise.”

Dean kisses him. “So… we should celebrate this, right?”

Cas nips at Dean’s lips gently. “I like the way you think,” he says, and starts to take off Dean’s shirt. 

Dean holds him back. They struggle for a few seconds, because Cas is remarkably single minded when he gets in the mood, but eventually, he backs off. “What?” he asks petulantly. 

“Let’s invite my family over.”

“What?” Cas squawks. 

“What?” Dean parrots, “They love you, you love them. Yeah, sure, Jo’s a bit scary, but you know that she’s a big softie inside.”

“Last time we saw her,” Cas whispers solemnly, “she put spiders in our bed sheets.”

Dean winces. So telling Jo about Cas’s biggest irrational fear was, perhaps, not the brightest decision that he’d ever made in his life. 

“Yeah, but Ellen totally reamed her for that. She’s not gonna be pulling that one again anytime soon.”

Cas squints. 

“Is Sam going to come too?”

Dean shrugs. “I mean, Sam already knew that I was gonna propose to you. But yeah, he’s probably gonna want to come as well.”

“Good.”

When he first introduced Cas to his family, he was worried that they might find him strange. To Dean’s surprise, and later horror, Sam and his future-brother-in-law had got along like a house on fire. He’s had to bail them out of a jail cell one too many times, but according to Cas and Sam, it’s formed an unbreakable connection between the two. 

“Of course, you and I share a more _profound_ bond,” Cas had said, “But Sam and I also share quite a significant bond, that is not to be taken lightly.”

Dean still shudders to think of that one, ill-fated Valentine’s Day. 

Tracing a finger around Cas’s face, Dean says, “It’s gonna go great, babe.”

“Cas, you’ve already met my family!” Dean says, and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Cas furiously scrubs nonexistent stains on their dining table, while keeping an eye on the pot heating up soup on the stove. He’s already spent hours cleaning, meticulously sweeping every last bit of dust from the counters. 

“But this is the first time I’m going to meet them as your _fiancé,_ ” Cas stresses. 

Dean walks up to Cas, and puts a hand on the small of his back. 

“Look, they already love you. That’s not gonna change, even if this doesn’t go perfectly, okay?”

Cas throws him a dirty look. “The only reason you’re so calm about this is because you’ve already gotten blessings to marry me from _my_ family.”

“Yeah, and look how well that’s turned out! Sweetheart, nothing’s gonna top that, okay? It’ll be fine.”

Dean can see Cas swallowing nervously, clutching on to the towel that he was using. His wings are pulled in tight, and Dean can see that they’re shaking a bit. Dean presses a kiss on Cas’s neck, and runs his fingers through Cas’s wings. Slowly, Cas releases his wings, and they start to puff out. Cas turns around, and buries his face in Dean’s neck.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect man. It’s not gonna change anything,” Dean says again, moving his hands up to muss up Cas’s hair. 

“I know,” Cas says, his voice muffled by Dean’s shirt. 

Dean hustles Cas onto the sofa, opens Netflix, and cues up the next episode of _Orange is the New Black_. 

He sits on the sofa, and wraps an arm around Cas. “Just relax, okay? We’ve got everything under control.”

Cas nods. 

They manage to get through four episodes before the doorbell rings.

Cas tenses, so Dean grabs his hands. 

“It’s gonna be fine, okay?”

Cas nods stiffly. 

Bobby’s voice can just barely be heard from inside the house. “Anybody home?” 

Dean gets up, and makes to open the door, but even before he can yell ‘in a moment’, Cas already has the door open, and is welcoming Bobby inside. 

“Are Ellen and Jo coming today?” Dean asks. 

“Yep,” Bobby says, and jerks his head to the car, “They’re getting some stuff from the trunk. We picked up Sam too.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows, looks outside, and sure enough, he can see Sam’s floppy hair grabbing some bags next to Jo. 

Ellen walks through the door. “We heard that you boys got something you wanted to tell us.” She winks. 

“Cas!” Jo yells, and gives him a big hug. Cas looks at Dean, his eyes wide and fearful. Dean almost cackles. 

He’s also pretty sure that Cas is going to have a heart attack if his heart rate keeps on going up, angel healing powers be damned. 

“Hey Cas,” Sam says, “Nice to see you again! Glad to hear that Dean finally got the balls to ask you out!”

Dean snorts. 

“Yeah, well” Cas says, glancing at Dean and smiling, “it did take him quite a few tries to get it right.”

“It wasn’t that many,” he whines. 

“Uh,” Jo says, “Sam told us that you tried to ask him out twenty separate times.”

“ Liar! It wasn't _that_ many times,” he says, acting scandalized. 

“Mmm,” Bobby says. 

“What?!” Dean all but shrieks, “It wasn’t!”

“Sure thing, kid,” Ellen replies.

“Hey.” Cas smiles, and Dean can see all the nerves from before slipping away. He puts a hand on the back of Dean’s neck, and pulls him close. 

“Thank you for trying so many times.”

Dean grins, and pulls him in for a kiss. 

He’s got his family backing him up, and his angel by his side. 

Yeah, he’s one lucky son of a bitch. He knows. 

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reeeeeee this is probably the longest thing i've written in my life which is kind of sad but i also kinda like what i wrote? so that's ok. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading this!!!! xoxo Asteria
> 
> ~ 
> 
> find me lurking on [tumblr](https://celestialsilhouette.tumblr.com/)
> 
> find aaaalllllll of deli's other art on tumblr [here](https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and join the [profound bond discord](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) if you're 18+ and love destiel!!

**Author's Note:**

> find me lurking on [tumblr](https://celestialsilhouette.tumblr.com/)
> 
> find aaaalllllll of deli's other art on tumblr [here](https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and join the [profound bond discord](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) if you're 18+ and love destiel!!


End file.
